checkmate
by Crystal Haze
Summary: "Tell me, Haruno-san," he says, voice silky smooth, "How do you plan on seducing my brother?" ItaSaku. Oneshot.


A/N: I know, I know, I have two other fics to update, and I promise to get to them as soon as I can, but I was bored during a lecture and this quick little oneshot happened. Enjoy?

-:-

Sasuke is late.

Sitting on the plush leather couch in the living room of the opulent Uchiha mansion, Sakura isn't sure how she feels about this. Impatient, because she's been looking forward to this all week? Ever since Kakashi-sensei, bless his perverted little soul, paired her up with Sasuke—_Uchiha asdfgs;dflk Sasuke_—for a biology project. One that would necessitate long hours of working together at his house, just the two of them, occasionally brushing fingers, exchanging furtive glances, violently making out—

Or relieved at the delay, because holy shit she still isn't ready for this. Not even close.

"I'm afraid my brother appears to be running late again."

Jumping a few inches off the seat, Sakura tears her eyes away from the priceless-looking Ming vases sitting casually along the sides of the room.

"Just like him to keep a lovely lady waiting, too—he always did have rather unfortunate manners."

It's Uchiha Itachi—Sasuke's brother, older than him by three years. Student Council president and football captain back in his day, recently graduated from business school with top honours, and still something of a legendary figure around their school. And he just called her _lovely_?

Now, let's put that into perspective, shall we? You see, if Sasuke—with the gorgeous face, the sexy smirk and the rabid fangirls, is a good, solid _asdfgs;dflk _on the keysmash scale, his brother is somewhere in the region of _HOLY MOTHER OF ASJSAL;FJDSLSDF, smash whole keyboard, throw it out of the window, throw self out with it_.

Every one of his movements executed with measured, yet effortless grace, Itachi folds his arms and leans against the door.

"Right," she says stiffly, because is it just her, or is the room _stifling_?

He raises his hand to examine his black-painted fingernails, and blows lightly on them.

"You have a crush on my brother." It isn't a question.

Her brain freezes, and she makes the fatal mistake of looking up at him again. He has his eyes fixed on her, drawing her in and awaiting a reply, and she's helpless, utterly helpless against it.

Numbly, she nods.

Itachi's lips curve into a grin that threatens to split his face in two. "Excellent," he murmurs to himself, and if he were the lead villain in a cartoon, he'd be rubbing his hands and cackling by now. "Excellent."

He pushes off from against the wall and starts to walk up to the couch. "You seem like an intelligent girl, Haruno-san," he says. The jeans he's wearing fit him snug as sin, and for a moment Sakura is transfixed by the way his muscles flex with the motions, powerful and fluid and graceful all at once.

"Resourceful, too," he continues, starting to circle around to the back of the couch.

"The sort of girl," he exhales, bending low behind her with his mouth so close she can feel every breath on the tiny hairs of her neck, "You might always expect to have a plan."

He doesn't linger long, but it's enough to make her feel like she's just run a mile. Through the harshest desert in the midday sun. "Wh—Um, why do you say that?"

Stepping around the couch, Itachi stops in front of her. "I worry about my brother, you see," he says. "Constantly. He can be—how do I put it... a little slow on the uptake, occasionally? Not intentionally, of course, but when I see a girl like you display an—interest, and he remains quite blind to it, I have to try and give things a push in the right direction." His lips curve into a cat-like smirk. "Just being big-brotherly, you understand."

Sakura nods faintly, trying to process the information, when he starts to speak again. "Tell me, Haruno-san," he says, voice silky smooth, "How do you plan on seducing my brother?"

Sakura's head goes perfectly blank. No wait—she's fairly certain this is where her entire life flashes before her eyes.

Yep—there go the angsty flashbacks of being bullied in primary school for her wide forehead.

"C-Could you, uhm. Could you run that by me again?"

She was distracted, by the movements of his lips, and the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he spoke. Too distracted to catch his words correctly. Of course. That was it. Could happen to _anyone_.

Itachi's grin widens. "You're right," he says. "My mistake. Show me, I should have phrased it. _Show_ me how you plan on making the move on my little brother. Practical demonstrations are always the most effective when it comes to such things, wouldn't you agree?"

He steps closer, and in one fluid movement sits down in the couch next to her. Running a hand carelessly through his hair once, he turns to look at her with one eyebrow arched.

Sakura doesn't keel over sideways to fall comatose on the Uchiha living room rug, but it's a close thing.

"You want me to—to sh-show you?" she stutters. (Damn it, she never stutters.) "How I plan to make... my move? On... on you?"

Itachi's brows crease into a frown. "You do have a plan, don't you?"

Sakura licks her lips. She doesn't know why she doesn't just punch the guy into next week for harassment—she's more than capable of that, obviously, but she runs her eyes once down the long lean figure next to her, right up to the tips of his slender fingers drumming on the coffee table.

It's all for Sasuke, she tells herself. Only for Sasuke.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she places her hand over his much bigger one, and laces their fingers together.

Itachi huffs a laugh.

"Is that all you've got," he says in amusement, "Sakura?"

She doesn't know if it's the way he says her name, or the smug, challenging smirk plastered to his face. All she knows for sure is oh, it's on.

After all, this is already a bizarre and out-of-body experience enough; a little more couldn't hurt, could it?

She gets to her feet.

Lightly trussing up her short pink hair, she takes a few steps to the centre of the room. She holds her back straight and poises herself on her heels so that her skirt rides well up her thigh, showing off the curve of her ass in stark relief.

_What the hell is she doing,_ she wonders as her stomach plummets clean through the floor.

She turns around, and Itachi is watching her, with his knees apart and his elbows rested on them and his eyes keen and impossibly dark. She bites her lip, and feels breathless and beautiful all in a sudden, exhilarating rush.

As she starts to walk towards him, hips swaying gently, she's hardly aware of anything besides Itachi, and his eyes on her. Halfway up to the couch, she remembers that this is Sasuke she's supposed to be pretending to _seduce_.

She feels a jolt of guilt, and squeezes her eyes shut for a second. _Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke_ she says the name over and over in her head, but for some reason she cannot conjure up his face even in her mind's eye.

Pushing down a rising wave of panic—because when has she ever had a problem picturing in her head?—she opens her eyes and keeps walking towards him, still repeating his name to herself in the hopes that he'll replace _Uchiha fucking Itachi,_ soon, and all will be right in the universe again.

But when her knees touch his, she realises somewhere down the line the chant in her head had turned into _Itachi, Itachi, Itachi_ instead.

She finds herself lifting her leg to place one knee on the edge of the couch, and leaning closer in. The lines are blurring, dangerously close to disappearing altogether and she knows through the haze clouding her brain that she's in over her head, and that she should walk away now, and never look back.

But she's half-heady from the proximity, half-annoyed at the ease with each he he's managed to get under her skin, and it makes her feel bold to the point of recklessness.

Smoothing her fingers from his hands and up his arms, she stops at his shoulders and plays lightly with a few strands of his long, dark hair hanging loose from his ponytail. He's like his brother in a lot of ways—the same pale skin, straight nose, and slender fingers, but different in so many others. The way he holds himself, firm yet easy; the amused twinkle in his eye; the softer, lusher mouth.

She leans forward till her mouth is centimetres from his neck. The catch in his breath as she stops there sends a thrill down her spine, and she blows lightly, ever so lightly on his skin.

A trail of goosebumps flares from where her breath touches him, and her lips curve into a smile. _Sasuke_, she means to say. She really does. But when the name escapes her throat, it sounds like _Itachi_ instead.

This time, the stab of panic is a dull, faraway feeling, and when Itachi groans softly and places a hand on her hip, it dies down altogether. Her chest brushes his as she inhales, and and it's all she can do not to press herself flush against him. Then he closes the final hair's breadth separating them, pressing her against him, and the last thread of control she has snaps.

"She's made her move," she whispers, and presses her lips to his neck. Soft, feather-light, she trails them up to his jaw. "What does he do now?"

Itachi shifts, places his other hand on her stomach, and runs it slowly up her torso to rest just under her breasts. She gasps, and he gently pushes her back till they're facing each other again.

She's never felt so sexy, or like she's the only girl in the universe, till she'd seen the way he looks at her.

"Well," he murmurs, "First of all, he—" He tilts her chin up, so they're making eye contact. His eyes are on her so intently it's as if he wouldn't look away if the room was on fire; his pupils blown.

"Then," he continues, and takes her hand in his and presses it to his chest—his heartbeat thumps against her palm. "He decides to gives her—" he rasps, smoothing his hand down her hip, over her skirt and to the back of her knees, "An A... minus."

Sakura arches an eyebrow at him, toying with his hair. "Just a minus?"

"That's the penalty you get," Itachi says, lightly grazing the skin of the back of her knee, "For a poor... follow up."

Sakura's heart stops for a second, and her brain freezes up, but her voice has a mind of it's own, and she finds herself saying, "Good thing I never... never stop till I get what I want, then," she whispers, and the last shred of pretence between them crumbles, as if they'd never existed. (And maybe they never had; not really.) "And what I want right now... _sensei_, is to be top of the class."

When she kisses him, hard, with her fingers digging into his shoulders and her knees holding her up in his lap, she thinks maybe, just maybe it had always been leading up to this. Watching the other girls gasp and clutch their hearts and feverishly whisper among themselves when the tall, long-haired head boy walked down the corridors; every time she'd flirted with Sasuke, and left feeling like she'd been trying to communicate with a brick wall; looking up the Uchiha residence phone number from the directory because Sasuke had no use for a phone—I mean, contact with other humans, what?—

She pulls back and stares at Itachi. (Trying and failing not to glance at his lips, moist from the touch of hers.) "You never told him, did you!" she cries, eyes wide.

The call had gone into voicemail, and she'd left a message asking Sasuke if she could come by to work with him on the project. Later, she'd received a text from an unknown number, telling her when to come, and when she'd called back (to _confirm_, it was a perfectly legit excuse, okay!) they'd told her the number didn't exist.

"No," says Itachi lazily. His fingertips feel inordinately good as they keep skimming over the back of her knee. "I didn't."

"You're shameless," she says. His smirk widens, and she grabs his collar and kisses him again.

This time, his fingers finds their way into her hair, and his other hand wanders over her back, pulling her closer and closer. The tip of his tongue flicks at the seam of her lips, and when she parts them to let out a soft moan, he draws her tongue out to tangle with his.

When he breaks off to lightly kiss down her neck, his hair brushes her nose and abruptly pierces the dream. What is she doing? Sitting on Uchiha Itachi's lap like this, in his living room?

"You're thinking too much," Itachi murmurs, raising his lips off her skin.

"And that's a surprise to you?" Sakura cries, half-hysterical. She bites her lip. "Why—why did you do it? Text me to come today?"

Itachi sighs, and tucks a strand of his long, dark hair behind his ear. "Why do we do anything at all?" he says lazily, then laughs softly at Sakura's incensed glare. "There's always been something about you, Haruno Sakura. With that hair and those tiny, ten-tonne fists, and that fierce, burning desire to stand out, _be _someone... I don't think anyone could list all the things that make you so incredibly—and quite infuriatingly unique, but it is a fascinating project, really, and maybe all you need is time."

Sakura stares at him, heart racing. Was all of that... for real? All she was to him was his junior in school by three years, and his baby brother's classmate. Did he really have an opinion on her before this, before they'd ever even properly spoken, let alone... all of _this_?

It grows more terrifying and wonderful, the deeper she tries to think about it. She wants to say something in reply, but her voice seems far too dry and she can't find the words anyway.

Itachi tugs her close again and kisses her, just a gentle, chaste touch of his lips to hers. When he breaks off, he brings his mouth close to her ear. "By the way," he murmurs, "My brother is gay."

Sakura stares at him in shock for a moment. Then a giggle erupts from the pit of her stomach. Starting to shake with uncontrollable laughter, she leans into him and crashes her lips against his again.

- owari -

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